


Persistence of Spirit

by oceanofcreepy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Existential Angst, Hugging, M/M, Sentiment, Set a long time in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofcreepy/pseuds/oceanofcreepy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After decades of games and decades of their unusual partnership, an old detective and an old criminal meet on a park bench and discuss the idea of the spirit surviving the death of the body. </p><p>AU (in the sense that TRF didn't happen), Sherlock and Jim are in an established relationship in this universe, and this is set far into the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persistence of Spirit

“If there is such a thing as hell, it seems doubtless you’d be going there.”

 

Sherlock shifted against the unyielding stiffness of the bench. His frame had thinned with age and he felt his hip bones pressed uncomfortably against the wood in spite of the padding the long, thick wool coat he wore provided.

 

They sat together on a bench in Green Park. Jim had left Sherlock all the clues to bring him here tonight. Even their meetings had to be games. The trees were shades of orange and yellow and the air held an extra hint of coolness. The sun was about to begin its nightly descent.

 

“Any sort of existence that survives death is hell.”

 

Jim, already a short statured man in his youth, sat on the bench as a small white haired man, his crumpled figure slumped into the backrest.  

 

Despite the years, Sherlock had retained a sharp light behind his eyes. He cast a searching glance at the man whose crimes he had spent nearly his whole life solving. And also the only individual he knew was capable of loving despite his lack of fondness for softhearted emotions.  

 

“The idea of heaven doesn’t appeal to you then?”

 

“ _Think about it_ , what does it really mean to go to heaven? In order for the notion of ‘going to heaven’ to make any sense it would have to mean that some part of us survives physical death. It would have to mean that some part of us persists after our death.”

 

“It’s commonly thought to be our spirit or our mind that goes on into the afterlife.” Sherlock nodded.

 

“If the thing that survives my death is actually _me_ in any meaningful way it’d have to contain something of my mind, my personality. Wouldn’t it?” Jim rubbed a creased hand over his face. “I can’t think of anything more hellish than having to continue to exist with _my_ mind for an eternity.”  

 

According to Descartes the spirit was "a thing that thinks". So under at least some notions of what constituted the spirit, it was entirely possible that we all would indeed have to exist with our own minds for an eternity. He had a sinking feeling. “You want death to be nothingness. You want the chaos of your mind to resolve into the white noise of non-existence.”

 

“I want for _everything_ to finally… fade away.” Now Jim was looking into the distance. His eyes were deeper set in his age and his dark pupils danced as he watched the sun start to sink into the earth. “To no longer need games, to no longer need to stave off boredom, now _that_ would be heaven.” Sherlock only rarely was allowed glimpses of this desolate side of Jim. Oh it was always there. Threatening at the edges of everything Jim did or said, but usually it was hidden behind cleverness and a stubborn self-sufficiency.   

 

Sherlock understood, but couldn’t agree with Jim’s perspective. There was nothing more precious than the mind. The idea that we would all die and this thing of ultimate importance would be lost forever was deeply unsettling to him. That a great mind like Moriarty's could be lost forever was deeply unsettling to him. Frankly, the prospect of hell disturbed him less than complete non-existence.

 

“You see the persistence of the mind after death as hell, but what if... we could exist in the afterlife together?” Sherlock tugged the despondent looking man into a firm hug. Jim let Sherlock wrap his arms about his shoulders and pull their white-haired heads together. “Would it really be hell if we could keep playing games for an eternity?” The sun finally dipped below the horizon.

 

“Yes. It’d still be hell.”

 

Jim wrapped his bony arms around Sherlock’s wiry torso and rested his head in the crook of Sherlock’s neck. He could feel the warmth of the embrace and the heat seep from the skin of Sherlock's neck onto his cheek. He closed his eyes.

 

“But if there was some way for us to be in the afterlife together, it’s the sort of hell I’d endure. For you.”

 

Sherlock let Jim’s words sink in as darkness fell around their entwined figures. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
